Making the Grade
by Storiesforsongs
Summary: A struggling student finds herself at desperate measures after a notice that she is failing out and may lose her scholarship. An attraction with the Professor does not seem to like her... or does he? The Professor's look and style here is patterned afte
1. Chapter 1

Narrative: A story based with two main characters; Professor Bono and Rebecca are the character names. This story is taking the "look" of Bono as the character basis as he appears in the Bar version of the "One" video. That is all that is of the actual person Bono. All else is fiction and from the depths of my imagination. Rebecca is a made up, completely fictional character from my mind. She is a student struggling to make her way through University and find her dreams, she is a late comer to University life, only finding her way there at 25. There are hints at her life here but it's mostly a "read between the lines" thing. That is the basic set up behind both characters that you will need to know.

Chapter 1

I'd been planning this for a week now; well that's when I first thought of it… in passing… as a joke. But there comes a time when you become desperate and that passing thought doesn't seem so funny anymore and becomes an actual option. That would come when I'd received the letter from the Dean that clearly stated I was in danger of failing my journalism class and even more, in danger of losing my scholarship if I did fail. How could I be failing this journalism class? My writing is the very thing that is my major… the very reason that I'd earned my scholarship and exactly the reason I'm losing that very scholarship.

I don't know why I'm having such a hard time understanding this class or maybe it's the Professor? Am I misunderstanding what he wants from me? I've written some pretty good pieces I think. I have my style and it's a style that I haven't changed and one that's always gotten me some wonderful results before this. What is it he wants? I begin to feel my emotions step up to panic level. I can't decipher if I'm having this anxiety attack because I'm failing out of University … or more specifically failing out because I'm inadequate… or is it because of what it is that I'm setting out to do right now?

The last thought digs in and holds on tight and I begin to fester over the thought of what I'm actually considering doing now… and I've easily figured out the answer to my question.

God… what was I doing? Saving my future that's what the hell I'm doing. But, like this? Oh… I can't do this, I really can't. I cannot seduce Professor Bono… how did I possibly think that I could pull this off? I've never done this before…what if I'm inadequate at this too? It's not as if the Professor has actually shown me any… what's the word… interest? Acknowledgment? Any signs of life recognized? The man hardly remembers my name half the time and the other half he just passes back my writings with disinterest, which is better than disgust. Caught that once too, okay maybe twice. UGH! The man absolutely HATES me! What the hell does he want? Oh yeah, seducing HIM should be a cakewalk. I cannot believe I'm having an argument with myself about seducing my Professor. Seducing my professor? I am really desperate here and if I let myself think too long over just how desperate I will really begin to scare myself about the possibilities of my own sanity and dignity, but I tuck those thoughts away or I'll not be able to go through with this and I have to go through with this, it's the only option that seems feasible. God, I am desperate. Because I have to have this scholarship, it's the only way I'll be able to finish my studies. I worked hard for that damn scholarship and now I stand to lose it all because I can't figure out what the hell this stupid man wants from me and those stupid writing assignments.

I figure that asking him to meet with me to discuss the situation is a good idea either way. If all else fails I might be able to get a handle on it all better. Basically, it's a chicken out plan. So at least I have some safety net. I nearly did just that when it seemed that he didn't want to agree to meet with me. I don't know what that was but by the third try I guess he ran out of excuses and when he said the only time he could meet with me was tonight in his office at 7:00 on the eve of a holiday weekend he must have thought I'd have said no. But I didn't and with a resigned sigh he agreed to meet. He must've thought I would be more eager to run off as the other students for the traditional holiday weekend partying. Being a latecomer to university life at 25, I find myself much older than my peers and not as interested in the college partying life. This is my last chance to make something out of myself, and my life. I was picking up on his reluctance to meet with me and converting that into he must really not like me in the least bit and I nearly chickened out.

Meeting up with him in his office at night this way seems so cliché! But I guess it's fitting, as I'm feeling every bit the cliché. You know the one; big breasted, dumb blonde student, willing to seduce her way through life. Oh yes, feeling that cliché all over, well, with the exception that I'm not big breasted… or blonde. This will never work. Why did I really think I could do this? So I don't have big breasts, so what? At least the size of my breasts never proved a distraction for guys and their ability to look me in the eye while talking to me. Not once ever in my life have I caught a guy looking at my chest instead of at my face. So that's a good thing, um… isn't it? At the moment it doesn't seem like a good thing. Oh yeah… this seducing thing should go well.

I glance at myself in the mirror taking in the view of my makeup and hair. My dark chestnut shoulder length hair looks good in this style. I like the one length style and razor textured ends that frame my face nicely. I really have lost all of the, pre-womanhood, chubby face and my green eyes are standing out tonight, bright and shiny…yeah… with fear! I look over my outfit and I'm glad I decided to go with the subtle flowered print sundress with the lace up front. It makes my breasts appear a tad bigger and it does accentuate my shape nicely. At least I've got great legs and this dress is just short enough to show them off without being overtly "slut-y."

I've been getting out in the sun lately and I've got a nice golden brown glow working so I was able to do with out the panty hose and went with the white lace thong and matching bra for under it all. White lace is for innocence. That thought suddenly strikes me funny and I laugh out loud at myself. I'm no sexual dynamo but it's not as if I am without sexual experience… I just haven't had very good ones. And I've never once tried to seduce a man before. I think of Professor Bono… at least he's attractive. He's more than attractive he's down right hot. A little too hot to be a writing teacher if you ask me and he seems rather young to have earned the title of professor. I'd heard that he was in his late 30s but he looks barely 30. Coming absolutely clean here he's gorgeous. That dark hair that he wears on the longer and unruly side with his strong facial features and stunning blue eyes makes for quite the lovely package. He carries that beautiful bone structure of his Celtic origin. And let's not fail to mention how his speech showcases that lovely Irish brogue of his. Pair that with that soft-spoken tone he seems to use no matter how irritated his eyes look and you've got the stuff that makes any female with a 10-mile radius melt into a puddle of babbling mess.

But the problem in all of this is what I'd noticed or not noticed personally, as none of those melting powers have been used in my direction with any purpose. No, for me he reserves that cold "I'm disappointed in the quality of work" look and voice. It's safe to say that I'm not the teacher's favorite in this class. Not that he has one really, but I wouldn't even make it to the class top 10 in that category, or the top twenty for that matter. In fact, I'd say that I'd not even make that list out of the whole of the student body that he's got in his classes for the entire semester, quite possible the entire year. If it hasn't been made clear enough, I really don't think he cares for me all that much. And yet, here I am on the move to try to seduce someone who has not one iota of interest in me…or like from what I can tell. But he is a man, right? All men are weak when it comes to turning down offers of sex, aren't they? Hell if I know the answers to any of that. Guess I'll just rely on my natural female instincts. I do have them don't I? How would I know? Ah hell… I'm thinking way too much about this. I suddenly wish I had more confidence in the sexual prowess area (or any confidence at all). I'd better muster up some because I'm here. Oh God! Just take a deep breath now Rebecca. And I'm talking to myself now. You can do this. No I can't. And I'm arguing with myself yet again. I pull my car into the spot next to his in front of the teacher's administration building and I take my time in being sure I've got my things in order. Notebook; check, pen; check, Mind: Gone. Yep, all set.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I take one last deep breath that comes dangerously close to resembling hyperventilating and I get out of the car. I take measured steps to the door and finding it open, I walk through it. I wind my way down the corridor and past the now dark and closed offices of the other members of the faculty and I spot his office. His door is open, the light from within spills out into the corridor. It's odd seeing just this spill of golden light in contrast to the darkness of the surrounding areas. Everyone else has long cleared out by now for the long holiday weekend. Wonder why Professor Bono hadn't mentioned plans for the holiday? Maybe he's like me? He doesn't really have anywhere to spend the holiday but here and no real family to spend it with? I have no idea why that thought has popped into my head at this exact moment. Maybe it's because I've just come to his door and I'm so completely desperate to keep my mind from panic that I'll think of just about anything else.

I stop at his door and find him reading through papers of some sort, he's not looking all that happy about it either. I knock on the door lightly so as not to startle him and he ushers me in with a light wave and a half heartedly spoken "Come in" without so much as sparing me a glance. I move the few steps inside his office and remain standing. He slowly looks up and gestures to the chair facing his desk. "Care to sit… or are you just planning to stand there and stare?"

I'm feeling that familiar sense of anxiety again and know that I will never have the confidence to offer any part of myself to this man for any reason. I sit and lightly clear my throat, sitting with my hands under my knees at first until I realize I'm wearing this stupid dress and then remember to cross my legs. I look up then and catch him looking at me with that slightly raised one eyebrow look that says he's analyzing the situation and it makes me feel small and inadequate as it always does. He is beautiful despite the look of disdain he seems to wear on his face just for me. He speaks while nodding to the notebook I hold on my lap, "Are we taking notes today, because I hadn't prepared a lesson". He smirks and I suppose that's the first evidence that I've seen that he has an amused side and it relaxes me some, even if it is at my expense.

"I just thought I might be able to ask you some questions on how I can improve my work for you and I thought a notebook might come in handy with… uh… any… uh… advice you might be able to… I mean… if you… you know… wanted to offer an assignment… I could write it down… in this… notebook." I nearly roll my eyes in disgust over my own nonsensical babbling.

He's not changed an iota of facial expression save the increasing irritation I see in his eyes. There's the look I'm used to and I feel oddly comforted by it.

Seeing as how he doesn't make any move speak, I babble on. "Um… I am not doing all that well in your class Professor Bono and I really… I mean… I just don't understand why? I was hoping maybe you could tell me. Um… do you mind if I stand? I have a back… injury… and it helps to stand," I lie. And I have to stifle a laugh at my own pathetic excuse.

I find myself on my feet now without a clue as to how to approach this. I could sit on the corner of his desk facing him or I could walk behind him and… and what? Then what would I do? I fight back the feeling of despair and the urge to quit and am still doing this when he rises from behind his desk.

"I'm not able to sit while a lady is standing. It makes for bad manners conversationally and more importantly I don't take well to being spoken to from the upper hand position by a student."

I can feel the blush creeping up my neck and heating up my face. God, I'm such a cretin. I babble, "I- I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… I didn't mean anything by the gesture".

Again with the one raised eyebrow look. "No, I'm sure you didn't." "But this is fine, I don't mind a standing conversation so long as you're not planning a showdown here then."

Apparently this thought amuses him and I'm awarded a view of a rare but beautiful grin that seems to change his entire face. It almost makes that normally complacent look he wears so well appear slightly arrogant and I think I just may have to change my thong now and I've taken to staring as my gaze wanders down to his mouth and lingers there.

My mind has been wiped clean and I'm wondering what it would be like to touch that mouth with my own mouth, to taste it, taste him. I'm lost in this thought a second but I'm brought back from the fantasy realm abruptly as I suddenly realize I've been caught openly daydreaming about this man in front of him. And I'm sure he knows it.

He comes around to my side of the desk. "Ms. Manning, possibly you could tell me what exactly it is that you would like to go over tonight so that we could get on with this meeting and I could get on home like the rest of the staff and students, and you as well. I would imagine you'd have plans yourself for the holiday weekend?"

I take a chance and glance up at him, then immediately away as I suddenly am feeling rather guilty that I have misread the situation and am obviously keeping him from the plans he does have and is waiting to get to while I stand here feeling like a complete moron wasting his time without a clue about what I'm going to say or do next.

"Miss Manning?"

Caught daydreaming again, I look back to him as if I'd not been present in the room for the last bit of conversation and he regards me with a look of increasing irritation as he continues to speak, "Surely you've plans of your own you're wanting to get to then?"

I acknowledge him with a shake of my head and simply say, "No Professor, I actually don't have anywhere… uh… anything planned, I mean… um… I'm sorry to be taking you away from your plans."

He considers me a moment and I can see he's got something going on in those eyes of his, some new sort of analysis that I haven't yet seen. "Well let's have it then, what is it that you'd like to discuss… specifically, please."

He's now perched himself on the corner of his desk considering me with those eyes of his that have the most intense shade of blue now and I wonder how any woman can look into those eyes and manage to not drown in them. I know I have to do something now. Its fail or die trying, I guess.

Decided, I do my best to move in the most graceful and sexy way I know in an effort to move closer to him while I say, "I was just wondering if there was some sort of extra credit or anything I could do to improve the matter of my grade, Professor."

I've closed the distance between us and I reach out to touch his arm. He doesn't seem phased by the move so I keep my hand there while I give him my best 'come on' stare. He isn't getting it. So I move a little closer and I touch his other arm so that now I'm standing directly in front of him, hands resting on both his arms and looking up the short length of space between my face and his. Still he doesn't move a muscle. I tentatively step up and laying my hands on his shoulders silently cursing my hands for the obvious shaking they're doing and wishing them to be still. I lean in and touch my lips to his, softly at first before fully pressing my lips to his. I'm immediately surrounded by his scent and taste and yearn to taste more. His lips are soft, so soft and oh so very warm and I can't hold back the sigh that escapes. My lashes flutter closed as I part my lips inviting him to take, wanting him to, needing him to and… and … nothing. My eyes flash open as I realize that I'm holding onto this man, mouth to his mouth in surrender, yet he takes nothing that I offer, nothing at all.

Unless you count my dignity and every drop of what was left of my self-esteem.

I quickly try to avoid his direct line of vision but my eyes are drawn back to his briefly looking for some sign of my humiliation mirrored in them and I linger there trying to figure if it's a flash of humor I'm seeing in his eyes just before he says, "Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Manning?"

It sounds mocking and cold and laced with disinterest. The feeling of utter humiliation and embarrassment hits me with a force that feels similar to having the wind knocked out of me and I stumble back a step in response, quickly removing my hands from his shoulders and wishing there were a corner I could crawl into and die right there and then. I feel the color drain from my face as I close my eyes on resign and I can't bear to look at him now. Can't bear to show the humiliation of rejection that I'm sure he will see clearly on me. And more importantly I couldn't stand to see the look of disgust he must have on his face right about now. A hot ball of panic forms in the pit of my stomach. I am blindsided by too many emotions at once. What pierces through first is the hurt followed closely, so closely it nearly hits me at the same time, is the shame of my actions. The threat of tears is close I can feel its sting just as I feel my eyes begin to fill. Not wanting to further embarrass myself with crying, I keep my eyes downcast as I feel the first tear spill over and run down my cheek. I don't know what to do but I know I need to get out of here. Now. I quickly glance up but I'm not really seeing him, I've the protection of the veil of tears now and I command my feet to move. I'm moving backward but it feels like a dream of images moving in slow motion. It's the sensation that you often feel in dreams when you need to run but your legs won't move and they feel as though they're made of lead. I finally manage to move away and turn to run out the door. Those plans are stopped as he manages to move from the desk and around me to get to the door faster. All I end in doing is running into him, hitting him squarely in the chest. Oh God, I didn't think I could be more mortified. I am now forced to look up at him and I'm surprised that what I see there isn't disdain or disgust. His eyes hold confusion or maybe it's pity that I see in them and while that isn't exactly the reaction I was hoping for I guess it's a step up from disgust. I have no idea what to do or say now and it feels as though time is stretching out for an eternity before he finally speaks. The look in his eyes… is that… could it be… care? No, I must be imagining that. The humiliation and shame must have clouded my thoughts as the tears have clouded my vision. I open my mouth to speak but nothing will come. It is he who speaks first and to my surprise the tone is soft and if I'm not crazy it sounds… warm. "Rebecca".

He waits until I look up at him fully before he continues. "What is this about? Do you really think yourself so untalented and have such little respect for yourself that you'd opt for sex with me in exchange for a passing grade?" I can say nothing. "I'm truly disappointed in you. I had expected so much more, maybe too much". He sighs and moves away from me. "I'm willing to forget this and you can be on your way if this is all you'd set out after by coming here tonight. You can earn your grade as every other student in the class is expected to do. Have a good evening then, Miss Manning."

And I am dismissed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Deflated and dejected I turn to leave, my embarrassment giving way to panic and I am stopped as the intense choking desperation rears it's head and controls, no, rules my actions. On a fleeting thought I realize that there isn't anything I could possibly do now to make a bigger ass of myself. Throwing all sense of pride aside I turn back and before I know it or can stop it I hear myself pleading, "Professor Bono, I can't lose my scholarship! I have no other way of affording this education! I just… I need your help. Please."

He stops midway into the motion of seating himself behind his desk and he straightens himself again to look at me. At least I've got his attention anyway. Knowing this my mouth takes it upon itself without my permission and betraying me with shaking and stripping me naked of any dignity I've left and revealing all of my fear and despair. "I can't fail this class, I just can't! I'm sorry for this…here…all of this… I was desperate." I worked too hard for this to lose it this way… I realize this sounds ridiculous now but I assure you I've NEVER done anything like this before… ever… and I understand you being disappointed in me, I do, I'm disappointed in me… it's just… I…"

My voice trails off not quite ending that thought before I move into another… one that has crept into my thought process, sparking a sense of anger with it.

"Do you know that this is the first time you've dared condescend to speak to me? This here adds up to the most words you said to me directly all semester. Of course you must know that. What is it about me that you dislike so much? Is there anything about me that you DO like?"

I shake my head as if to erase that last question from it, it just sounds so damned pathetic hearing it out in the open now.

He stands there without movement or speech and I take it as a green light and just ramble on with my tirade, " I worked hard… I work hard and I deserved that scholarship and I deserve to PASS this class! I'm a GOOD writer and I don't care what you think anymore!"

I am shouting and I think I have been all along. I've only now noticed it. And I'm using this power now. Standing straight-backed, chin high and standing up for myself, I notice his momentary surprise but continue on without giving him the chance to speak and ruin this moment for me until I've said what I need to.

"What is it that you WANT from me? What? I study hard and I pay attention and I try my damn ass off to meet your expectations! But no matter how hard I try, no matter how good I think I've written something, it's never good enough for you! I can't seem to write anything good enough for you!"

I have now changed pitch from a simple shouting to out and out screaming. It's high pitched and deeply rooted in pain but I swallow that, I can't afford to fall apart now with tears. I need to stand firm behind this moment no matter how ridiculous I may seem to him now.

He barely regards my outburst with any notice that it even happened as he casually moves to slide open his top desk drawer drawing out a slim dark cigar and lights it, taking a drag and blowing out a steady stream of smoke before he looks up at me through the haze of lingering smoke with those analyzing blue eyes that he has narrowed to look upon me before he let's out a laugh. He laughs! I hear the laugh rumble from deep in his chest from where I'm standing and I just want to punch him!

He slowly smiles before speaking, "That. That right there. That's what I want."

I must have looked confused, surely I was wearing that on my face because I sure as hell felt like I missed something important. What could he mean by that?

Before I can ask he continues on first, giving the cigar in his hand a good looking over before returning the aim of those incredible blue eyes on me again.

"Right there. That unbridled, not worrying about measured words or calculated facts, passion, that you just unleashed on me… that's what your writing is missing. Put that in your writing, darlin'. Take that energy from wherever you just pulled it from and remember what it felt like just now. Focus on it; channel it into your writing. Use it."

He moves to his desk, crushes out his cigar in the ashtray before picking up the stack of papers that he was reviewing when I first arrived at his office door and holds it out to me. I take it, they're all of my writing assignments from this semester and he holds the stack out to me.

"This… this is shit. Just words and facts and stats, aligned perfectly, perfectly boring. It's shit. Anyone can do this Rebecca. Anyone."

He drops the stack back on his desk in a heap and sends my anger reeling. I think my head just may explode from the power of it and I can feel the heat of it flushing my skin and I know he senses and sees it as well. He smiles and starts to move in my direction, the smugness of this action just fuels my already skyrocketing anger and I can barely contain it anymore. "C'mon, let's have it then. Let it out Rebecca."

"You're a fucking LUNATIC! Do you know that! Reporting IS facts! You state the facts, clearly and concisely… that's the whole purpose of the JOB! I do that well… you said so yourself!

Swallowed now in my own anger I haven't noticed that he's now standing close, toe to toe even, as if he's spoiling for a fight; a showdown as he so eloquently eluded to earlier. How dare he! But I can sense the temper and the anger and… something else swirling just beneath the surface of that cool exterior of his.

He speaks and I realize that while his words may be calm and measured that this isn't calm at all but a deep and intensified temper that is much more dangerous delivered this way then shouting it. He speaks in that soft voice that holds so much emotion back and delivers the words in calm and measured tones. "Yes. But you can deliver it with passion. Open yourself to what you're feeling about those facts and let it bleed through in your writing. Expose yourself in them, Rebecca."

I'm backing away from him now and from this calm attack that's battering all of my senses at once. It isn't until I feel the door at my back, the noise of it shutting, jarring my senses, that I've realized that I've been retreating from his oh so calm on the surface attack. I shudder in what I think is fear at first but soon recognize as excitement. There's a cracking energy in the air around us and I swear I can all but see its tendrils surrounding us, sending a thrilling shudder coursing through me. He speaks again, softly, only now his voice as taken on a hoarse-ness and it comes out in husky deep tones.

"Put that passion in your writing and you'll have me…"

His voice trails off as he stops to pause there and grins over what I can only guess is his enjoying himself and his obvious play on words about the situation that taken place earlier… much to my horror.

"…You'll have me alright…dancing a bleedin' jig if you like and you'll have the satisfaction like none other after you've finished the piece yourself."

He is now standing close; so close his face is mere inches from mine

"You release enough of that passion love and you'd might just find yourself feeling… sated." This last word is whispered and punctuated by his lips brushing over mine. I've tensed, my arms and hands splayed behind me on the door and groping for some sort of grip on sanity and stability. But he continues his assault on my senses and I'm losing my touch with reason. He continues on in that low seductive voice that makes my knees weak, "Let it go now, Rebecca… you'll find a different reaction". And he takes my mouth with an intensity that stops my heart from beating a quick hot second. I'm lost in the sensation his tongue brings, stroking, demanding access and seeking mine. He has his hands braced on the door on either side of my head and I'm trapped between him and the door. He closes off the remaining space and light between us with his own body and I'm torn between the sensation of the hard door at my back and the hard line of his body against mine. I've lost all sense of rhyme and reason as I feel the heart of my desire build within me and I respond to his kiss with an intensity of my own, meeting and matching his with demands of my own. I grab hold onto his hips in an effort to steady myself and pulling my own body closer, moving against his and drawing a moan from him that escapes his throat, the sound of it giving me a sense of power I have never felt before. But he ends the kiss, licking my top lip with his tongue as he breaks the contact of his mouth from mine and I softly whimper because of the separation. He places his forehead against mine and I'm suddenly aware that I'm kissing my Professor and how this is not at all how I thought this little meeting would play out for sure.

His voice brings me back to the fold of the dream, "So you are alive in there after all. I've been hoping to see this in you… I didn't quite expect to have it happen this way." He chuckles to himself softly.

Feeling embarrassed at my reaction to him now I tense as the beginning feelings of humiliation rise in me once more. I hear that soothing voice again and feel his hands on my face, gently forcing me to meet his eyes with my own.

"No… don't crawl back inside of yourself again. Don't bottle this up too. That's your problem… all sense and no feeling. You're too good a writer to settle for less and to not use all of yourself in your work, Rebecca."

And I'm stunned, completely and utterly stunned. Was that just a compliment about my writing? I never thought I'd ever hear a compliment from him and my eyes begin to fill again partly from the compliment from him and also because of the conflicting emotions that are battering me all at once. Somehow I manage to speak. "You think I'm good?"

"Aye... you're good, but good isn't enough when you've the talent to be great. I wouldn't compliment you on good, when you've the potential to be more. And watching you turn in writing that was just "good enough" pissed me off beyond measure and left me wanting to shake some sort of sense into you"

"Yeah, I'd noticed that," was all I could manage. He releases me then and backs away and I suddenly feel exposed and cold and left wanting. Longing for his body to cover mine again.

"There's more," he continues. And now I'm intrigued. "I'd found myself attracted to you early on and I'd thought that it would be obvious for everyone to see. I was sure in thinking it could be read on me. So I deliberately went out of my way to cover it up by being distant toward you and I am sorry for that. It wasn't right of me to do to you".

I cannot speak words have completely failed me at this point and I've begun to even question my hearing abilities. Surely I'm not hearing this correctly. Did he just say that he was attracted to me?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"I don't… I don't understand." I move my hand to my forehead, cupping it in my palm and tilting my head into it as I try to make sense of these words just spoken to me and wishing he would just shut up and kiss me again. He only smiles that killer smile of his that I've only been lucky enough to see for the second time since I've known him and both times have been in the same night. What a surprisingly confusing night this turned out to be!

"Yes you do," he says. He turns to move from me but somewhere in that movement he's changed his mind and moves back to me placing his hands on my arms, before sliding his hands down them to join his hands with mine. My eyes follow the movement of the gesture. "You're a beautiful woman, Rebecca. Why does my saying that surprise you?"

I'm answering before I realize, " The part where you're saying it?"

He looks at me a full second before he laughs, a laugh that becomes a full on whole hearted laugh, its warm sound echoes throughout his office bouncing around the walls and infecting me and I can't help but join in. And it's an all out silly laugh fest now. Nothing like a little nervous laughter to clear the heart and soul of any hurt, pain or confusion, with the tension suddenly made funny.

The room takes on a lighter air about it. He reaches out then and touches my face and suddenly the moment of silly air has now taken another serious turn. "You know that I cannot act on this attraction that I feel for you, Rebecca". I nod because I do know, but I can't stop the disappointment from showing. "Well, after this anyway" he says while sliding his hand behind my head cradling it while he leans in to touch his lips to mine, softly and sweetly sliding his lips over mine but it ends too quickly. "I can't do this", he says, "you know I can't, love. You're my student, it breaks the code of ethics by which I'm held to as your Professor of this University."

I cannot speak because I'm lost inside and enveloped in that warm sensation of a dream that you do not want to end and don't want to wake from. I remain quiet, listening and he continues on.

"As much as I'm wanting to throw that aside and find out just how deep that passion you've got runs, I just can't. At least not now, I can't. We can give this time while it is we must live by the rules of the roles we have here. There's just three weeks until semester's end. We have to wait until then to assume different roles, love. For now and starting back tomorrow, I'm your professor and you, my student. We must behave accordingly, for both our own good. I'll need to be keeping my employment here and you'll be having that scholarship. And it will be on your own merits and talents that you pass this class and keep that well deserved scholarship of yours and not because of some other sort of helping hand or other motive. It's important that you know that. You earned this and nothing should have a chance at taking it from you. Nothing".

"Tomorrow?" I ask. He looks completely baffled at my one word admission.

"Sorry?" He asks in that polite "begging pardon" sort of way only the Irish can make sound sexy as hell.

"Well," I continue, "tomorrow is Saturday… are you still my Professor on the Saturdays of holiday weekends?"

Confusion has finally taken the better of him and stares at me as if the answers would be written across my forehead. They may have been read from the emotions swirling in my eyes but I'm sure it isn't the answer to the question that his confusion was searching for. I smile and move toward him feeling a strength, confidence and power that I'd never felt before.

"You said that starting tomorrow you become my Professor once more, yes? Well, tomorrow is Saturday… the Saturday before a holiday weekend, a holiday which the University will be closed down for until the following day. So… will you really be my Professor tomorrow? And… regardless of all of that… tonight isn't tomorrow. So…

I've moved closer to him and now look up into his eyes with a mock questioning and smiling at my well made point I take the chance reaching up to kiss him, just once, very softly and using just the tip of my tongue for a soft taste of his bottom lip, coaxing a response from him. A response I wasn't ready for as I gasp when grabs me, pulling me away reading my eyes and seeing the desire in them. I hear him bite off an oath as he yanks me back against him and covers my mouth with his. The kiss is immediately intense and I bury my hands in his hair, grabbing handfuls, as I feel his hands holding onto the material of my dress at my back while he uses his lips, tongue and teeth to devour my mouth. Catching his tongue between my own lips and lightly sucking on it, he moans into my mouth, spiking my desire to dizzying heights. Growing bolder I bring my hands down to his chest, parting his jacket, sliding my hands inside, running them up and down his sides before grabbing the lapels of his jacket and removing it from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. He's moved his mouth from mine now to kiss along my jaw line, biting lightly. Drawing out a sigh from me before moving to do the same to my neck and throat. I'd forgotten my plan to strip him of his shirt as I let my head fall back to allow him access to feast on the long column of my throat. I hear a long soft sigh that ends on a moan and realize it had come from me. He lips journey to the exposed flesh of my shoulder and using his teeth on me, he bites softly. I moan and begin to unbutton his shirt tasting the flesh as I expose it. I manage to remove his shirt completely tossing it aside as his hands move to my shoulders sliding the straps of my dress aside and letting it pool at my feet as he claims my mouth again with his. He breaks the kiss long enough to take in the white lace that I'm left wearing now. His eyes move over me making me feel exposed and self- conscious under his gaze and I blush, confidence fading, I look away from him. His hand gently on my chin he brings my eyes back to his and with a breathy voice says, "That's beautiful, you're beautiful. All white lace and blushing, it's a hard to resist combination, darlin'. You could bring a man to his knees. But, I have to ask if you're wanting for me to continue here, I need to know this from you".

I answer not a spoken word at first but with reaching to him, moving to him and sliding my hands down his chest, stopping and lingering at the muscles of his stomach, feeling them contracting and bunching at my touch before sliding them down to the line of his pants, stopping at the fastening but sliding past and down the front of and over him, with a woman's appreciating sigh and returning my eyes to his, I demand, "Make love to me. Here. Now. Right now." I feel the surge of power between us and I swear I can literally hear his handle of control snap in two. Before I can think he moves his hands to the back of my thighs and lifts me in one swift move, wrapping my legs around him and with my arms around his shoulders he carries me to the desk. Holding me to him with one arm as he uses the other to clear his desk, sending its inhabitants flying and scattering the objects around the room. He lays me back, climbing up and bracing himself over me. I rise up to lay kisses on his chest, sliding my hands back to his trousers to remove them. Unfastening them I slide my hand inside to touch him, softly touching with appreciation before wrapping my hand around him, drawing a groan and watching his eyes nearly roll back in his head before he removes his pants altogether himself, discarding them with a toss to the floor. He uses his weight to lay me back and settles between my legs, keeping his weight even balanced he shifts some over me almost laying beside me holding himself up on his elbow while tracing a path with his hands that lingers over my breast, removing the material and bending his head to taste with his mouth. I arch under his touch and tasting with a gasp in my throat as he slides his hand down over my belly and down to stop at the line of white lace before tracing further down, stopping at the V of lace there. Using two fingers he slides the material aside before sliding them inside me. My hips rise and fall to the demand of his fingers moving inside me and I feel the trembles and hear his moan mixed with my own as he drives me over the edge and I pour into his hand. He moves over me bracing himself above me again, "Now, God, now", he groans driving himself deep inside me in one smooth motion, filling me and sending me over the edge again. He releases a shaky breath that ends on a moan as I contract around him. We're moving together now, rocking each other, moving, sliding, rising and falling and driving each other to the breaking point. Up and up again he drives me and I'm sent hurling up and over, I look into his eyes as I crest again, saying his name and letting go, arching against him, taking him with me up and over the edge he follows me, burying his face in my hair, moaning my name and emptying himself deep inside of me.

Time passes, or I think it does. Neither of us have the strength to move or speak. He lays himself on me, the weight of him is heavy and feels wonderful. I feel like a good satisfied feline stretch is in order and perhaps a bowl of cream. I run my hands over his back loving the feeling of his skin under them and he stirs, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at me. My skin is flushed from the satisfaction of being sated and he smiles. "I can't complain any about any lack of expression of passion here, love".

I grin and say, "So I've made the grade on this then?" His face turns serious a second before softening and I watch the amused look come into his eyes before he laughs and says, "Of course, but I'm still willing to make an offer of extra credit, if you're interested," he says with a wiggling brow and a wicked grin.

Laughter fills the room and ends on twin sighs of pleasure as he slides himself inside me once more.

I take one last deep breath that comes dangerously close to resembling hyperventilating and I get out of the car. I take measured steps to the door and finding it open, I walk through it. I wind my way down the corridor and past the now dark and closed offices of the other members of the faculty and I spot his office. His door is open, the light from within spills out into the corridor. It's odd seeing just this spill of golden light in contrast to the darkness of the surrounding areas. Everyone else has long cleared out by now for the long holiday weekend. Wonder why Professor Bono hadn't mentioned plans for the holiday? Maybe he's like me? He doesn't really have anywhere to spend the holiday but here and no real family to spend it with? I have no idea why that thought has popped into my head at this exact moment. Maybe it's because I've just come to his door and I'm so completely desperate to keep my mind from panic that I'll think of just about anything else.

I stop at his door and find him reading through papers of some sort, he's not looking all that happy about it either. I knock on the door lightly so as not to startle him and he ushers me in with a light wave and a half heartedly spoken "Come in" without so much as sparing me a glance. I move the few steps inside his office and remain standing. He slowly looks up and gestures to the chair facing his desk. "Care to sit… or are you just planning to stand there and stare?"

I'm feeling that familiar sense of anxiety again and know that I will never have the confidence to offer any part of myself to this man for any reason. I sit and lightly clear my throat, sitting with my hands under my knees at first until I realize I'm wearing this stupid dress and then remember to cross my legs. I look up then and catch him looking at me with that slightly raised one eyebrow look that says he's analyzing the situation and it makes me feel small and inadequate as it always does. He is beautiful despite the look of disdain he seems to wear on his face just for me. He speaks while nodding to the notebook I hold on my lap, "Are we taking notes today, because I hadn't prepared a lesson". He smirks and I suppose that's the first evidence that I've seen that he has an amused side and it relaxes me some, even if it is at my expense.

"I just thought I might be able to ask you some questions on how I can improve my work for you and I thought a notebook might come in handy with… uh… any… uh… advice you might be able to… I mean… if you… you know… wanted to offer an assignment… I could write it down… in this… notebook." I nearly roll my eyes in disgust over my own nonsensical babbling.

He's not changed an iota of facial expression save the increasing irritation I see in his eyes. There's the look I'm used to and I feel oddly comforted by it.

Seeing as how he doesn't make any move speak, I babble on. "Um… I am not doing all that well in your class Professor Bono and I really… I mean… I just don't understand why? I was hoping maybe you could tell me. Um… do you mind if I stand? I have a back… injury… and it helps to stand," I lie. And I have to stifle a laugh at my own pathetic excuse.

I find myself on my feet now without a clue as to how to approach this. I could sit on the corner of his desk facing him or I could walk behind him and… and what? Then what would I do? I fight back the feeling of despair and the urge to quit and am still doing this when he rises from behind his desk.

"I'm not able to sit while a lady is standing. It makes for bad manners conversationally and more importantly I don't take well to being spoken to from the upper hand position by a student."

I can feel the blush creeping up my neck and heating up my face. God, I'm such a cretin. I babble, "I- I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… I didn't mean anything by the gesture".

Again with the one raised eyebrow look. "No, I'm sure you didn't." "But this is fine, I don't mind a standing conversation so long as you're not planning a showdown here then."

Apparently this thought amuses him and I'm awarded a view of a rare but beautiful grin that seems to change his entire face. It almost makes that normally complacent look he wears so well appear slightly arrogant and I think I just may have to change my thong now and I've taken to staring as my gaze wanders down to his mouth and lingers there.

My mind has been wiped clean and I'm wondering what it would be like to touch that mouth with my own mouth, to taste it, taste him. I'm lost in this thought a second but I'm brought back from the fantasy realm abruptly as I suddenly realize I've been caught openly daydreaming about this man in front of him. And I'm sure he knows it.

He comes around to my side of the desk. "Ms. Manning, possibly you could tell me what exactly it is that you would like to go over tonight so that we could get on with this meeting and I could get on home like the rest of the staff and students, and you as well. I would imagine you'd have plans yourself for the holiday weekend?"

I take a chance and glance up at him, then immediately away as I suddenly am feeling rather guilty that I have misread the situation and am obviously keeping him from the plans he does have and is waiting to get to while I stand here feeling like a complete moron wasting his time without a clue about what I'm going to say or do next.

"Miss Manning?"

Caught daydreaming again, I look back to him as if I'd not been present in the room for the last bit of conversation and he regards me with a look of increasing irritation as he continues to speak, "Surely you've plans of your own you're wanting to get to then?"

I acknowledge him with a shake of my head and simply say, "No Professor, I actually don't have anywhere… uh… anything planned, I mean… um… I'm sorry to be taking you away from your plans."

He considers me a moment and I can see he's got something going on in those eyes of his, some new sort of analysis that I haven't yet seen. "Well let's have it then, what is it that you'd like to discuss… specifically, please."

He's now perched himself on the corner of his desk considering me with those eyes of his that have the most intense shade of blue now and I wonder how any woman can look into those eyes and manage to not drown in them. I know I have to do something now. Its fail or die trying, I guess.

Decided, I do my best to move in the most graceful and sexy way I know in an effort to move closer to him while I say, "I was just wondering if there was some sort of extra credit or anything I could do to improve the matter of my grade, Professor."

I've closed the distance between us and I reach out to touch his arm. He doesn't seem phased by the move so I keep my hand there while I give him my best 'come on' stare. He isn't getting it. So I move a little closer and I touch his other arm so that now I'm standing directly in front of him, hands resting on both his arms and looking up the short length of space between my face and his. Still he doesn't move a muscle. I tentatively step up and laying my hands on his shoulders silently cursing my hands for the obvious shaking they're doing and wishing them to be still. I lean in and touch my lips to his, softly at first before fully pressing my lips to his. I'm immediately surrounded by his scent and taste and yearn to taste more. His lips are soft, so soft and oh so very warm and I can't hold back the sigh that escapes. My lashes flutter closed as I part my lips inviting him to take, wanting him to, needing him to and… and … nothing. My eyes flash open as I realize that I'm holding onto this man, mouth to his mouth in surrender, yet he takes nothing that I offer, nothing at all.

Unless you count my dignity and every drop of what was left of my self-esteem.

I quickly try to avoid his direct line of vision but my eyes are drawn back to his briefly looking for some sign of my humiliation mirrored in them and I linger there trying to figure if it's a flash of humor I'm seeing in his eyes just before he says, "Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Manning?"

It sounds mocking and cold and laced with disinterest. The feeling of utter humiliation and embarrassment hits me with a force that feels similar to having the wind knocked out of me and I stumble back a step in response, quickly removing my hands from his shoulders and wishing there were a corner I could crawl into and die right there and then. I feel the color drain from my face as I close my eyes on resign and I can't bear to look at him now. Can't bear to show the humiliation of rejection that I'm sure he will see clearly on me. And more importantly I couldn't stand to see the look of disgust he must have on his face right about now. A hot ball of panic forms in the pit of my stomach. I am blindsided by too many emotions at once. What pierces through first is the hurt followed closely, so closely it nearly hits me at the same time, is the shame of my actions. The threat of tears is close I can feel its sting just as I feel my eyes begin to fill. Not wanting to further embarrass myself with crying, I keep my eyes downcast as I feel the first tear spill over and run down my cheek. I don't know what to do but I know I need to get out of here. Now. I quickly glance up but I'm not really seeing him, I've the protection of the veil of tears now and I command my feet to move. I'm moving backward but it feels like a dream of images moving in slow motion. It's the sensation that you often feel in dreams when you need to run but your legs won't move and they feel as though they're made of lead. I finally manage to move away and turn to run out the door. Those plans are stopped as he manages to move from the desk and around me to get to the door faster. All I end in doing is running into him, hitting him squarely in the chest. Oh God, I didn't think I could be more mortified. I am now forced to look up at him and I'm surprised that what I see there isn't disdain or disgust. His eyes hold confusion or maybe it's pity that I see in them and while that isn't exactly the reaction I was hoping for I guess it's a step up from disgust. I have no idea what to do or say now and it feels as though time is stretching out for an eternity before he finally speaks. The look in his eyes… is that… could it be… care? No, I must be imagining that. The humiliation and shame must have clouded my thoughts as the tears have clouded my vision. I open my mouth to speak but nothing will come. It is he who speaks first and to my surprise the tone is soft and if I'm not crazy it sounds… warm. "Rebecca".

He waits until I look up at him fully before he continues. "What is this about? Do you really think yourself so untalented and have such little respect for yourself that you'd opt for sex with me in exchange for a passing grade?" I can say nothing. "I'm truly disappointed in you. I had expected so much more, maybe too much". He sighs and moves away from me. "I'm willing to forget this and you can be on your way if this is all you'd set out after by coming here tonight. You can earn your grade as every other student in the class is expected to do. Have a good evening then, Miss Manning."

And I am dismissed.

Deflated and dejected I turn to leave, my embarrassment giving way to panic and I am stopped as the intense choking desperation rears it's head and controls, no, rules my actions. On a fleeting thought I realize that there isn't anything I could possibly do now to make a bigger ass of myself. Throwing all sense of pride aside I turn back and before I know it or can stop it I hear myself pleading, "Professor Bono, I can't lose my scholarship! I have no other way of affording this education! I just… I need your help. Please."

He stops midway into the motion of seating himself behind his desk and he straightens himself again to look at me. At least I've got his attention anyway. Knowing this my mouth takes it upon itself without my permission and betraying me with shaking and stripping me naked of any dignity I've left and revealing all of my fear and despair. "I can't fail this class, I just can't! I'm sorry for this…here…all of this… I was desperate." I worked too hard for this to lose it this way… I realize this sounds ridiculous now but I assure you I've NEVER done anything like this before… ever… and I understand you being disappointed in me, I do, I'm disappointed in me… it's just… I…"

My voice trails off not quite ending that thought before I move into another… one that has crept into my thought process, sparking a sense of anger with it.

"Do you know that this is the first time you've dared condescend to speak to me? This here adds up to the most words you said to me directly all semester. Of course you must know that. What is it about me that you dislike so much? Is there anything about me that you DO like?"

I shake my head as if to erase that last question from it, it just sounds so damned pathetic hearing it out in the open now.

He stands there without movement or speech and I take it as a green light and just ramble on with my tirade, " I worked hard… I work hard and I deserved that scholarship and I deserve to PASS this class! I'm a GOOD writer and I don't care what you think anymore!"

I am shouting and I think I have been all along. I've only now noticed it. And I'm using this power now. Standing straight-backed, chin high and standing up for myself, I notice his momentary surprise but continue on without giving him the chance to speak and ruin this moment for me until I've said what I need to.

"What is it that you WANT from me? What? I study hard and I pay attention and I try my damn ass off to meet your expectations! But no matter how hard I try, no matter how good I think I've written something, it's never good enough for you! I can't seem to write anything good enough for you!"

I have now changed pitch from a simple shouting to out and out screaming. It's high pitched and deeply rooted in pain but I swallow that, I can't afford to fall apart now with tears. I need to stand firm behind this moment no matter how ridiculous I may seem to him now.

He barely regards my outburst with any notice that it even happened as he casually moves to slide open his top desk drawer drawing out a slim dark cigar and lights it, taking a drag and blowing out a steady stream of smoke before he looks up at me through the haze of lingering smoke with those analyzing blue eyes that he has narrowed to look upon me before he let's out a laugh. He laughs! I hear the laugh rumble from deep in his chest from where I'm standing and I just want to punch him!

He slowly smiles before speaking, "That. That right there. That's what I want."

I must have looked confused, surely I was wearing that on my face because I sure as hell felt like I missed something important. What could he mean by that?

Before I can ask he continues on first, giving the cigar in his hand a good looking over before returning the aim of those incredible blue eyes on me again.

"Right there. That unbridled, not worrying about measured words or calculated facts, passion, that you just unleashed on me… that's what your writing is missing. Put that in your writing, darlin'. Take that energy from wherever you just pulled it from and remember what it felt like just now. Focus on it; channel it into your writing. Use it."

He moves to his desk, crushes out his cigar in the ashtray before picking up the stack of papers that he was reviewing when I first arrived at his office door and holds it out to me. I take it, they're all of my writing assignments from this semester and he holds the stack out to me.

"This… this is shit. Just words and facts and stats, aligned perfectly, perfectly boring. It's shit. Anyone can do this Rebecca. Anyone."

He drops the stack back on his desk in a heap and sends my anger reeling. I think my head just may explode from the power of it and I can feel the heat of it flushing my skin and I know he senses and sees it as well. He smiles and starts to move in my direction, the smugness of this action just fuels my already skyrocketing anger and I can barely contain it anymore. "C'mon, let's have it then. Let it out Rebecca."

"You're a fucking LUNATIC! Do you know that! Reporting IS facts! You state the facts, clearly and concisely… that's the whole purpose of the JOB! I do that well… you said so yourself!

Swallowed now in my own anger I haven't noticed that he's now standing close, toe to toe even, as if he's spoiling for a fight; a showdown as he so eloquently eluded to earlier. How dare he! But I can sense the temper and the anger and… something else swirling just beneath the surface of that cool exterior of his.

He speaks and I realize that while his words may be calm and measured that this isn't calm at all but a deep and intensified temper that is much more dangerous delivered this way then shouting it. He speaks in that soft voice that holds so much emotion back and delivers the words in calm and measured tones. "Yes. But you can deliver it with passion. Open yourself to what you're feeling about those facts and let it bleed through in your writing. Expose yourself in them, Rebecca."

I'm backing away from him now and from this calm attack that's battering all of my senses at once. It isn't until I feel the door at my back, the noise of it shutting, jarring my senses, that I've realized that I've been retreating from his oh so calm on the surface attack. I shudder in what I think is fear at first but soon recognize as excitement. There's a cracking energy in the air around us and I swear I can all but see its tendrils surrounding us, sending a thrilling shudder coursing through me. He speaks again, softly, only now his voice as taken on a hoarse-ness and it comes out in husky deep tones.

"Put that passion in your writing and you'll have me…"

His voice trails off as he stops to pause there and grins over what I can only guess is his enjoying himself and his obvious play on words about the situation that taken place earlier… much to my horror.

"…You'll have me alright…dancing a bleedin' jig if you like and you'll have the satisfaction like none other after you've finished the piece yourself."

He is now standing close; so close his face is mere inches from mine

"You release enough of that passion love and you'd might just find yourself feeling… sated." This last word is whispered and punctuated by his lips brushing over mine. I've tensed, my arms and hands splayed behind me on the door and groping for some sort of grip on sanity and stability. But he continues his assault on my senses and I'm losing my touch with reason. He continues on in that low seductive voice that makes my knees weak, "Let it go now, Rebecca… you'll find a different reaction". And he takes my mouth with an intensity that stops my heart from beating a quick hot second. I'm lost in the sensation his tongue brings, stroking, demanding access and seeking mine. He has his hands braced on the door on either side of my head and I'm trapped between him and the door. He closes off the remaining space and light between us with his own body and I'm torn between the sensation of the hard door at my back and the hard line of his body against mine. I've lost all sense of rhyme and reason as I feel the heart of my desire build within me and I respond to his kiss with an intensity of my own, meeting and matching his with demands of my own. I grab hold onto his hips in an effort to steady myself and pulling my own body closer, moving against his and drawing a moan from him that escapes his throat, the sound of it giving me a sense of power I have never felt before. But he ends the kiss, licking my top lip with his tongue as he breaks the contact of his mouth from mine and I softly whimper because of the separation. He places his forehead against mine and I'm suddenly aware that I'm kissing my Professor and how this is not at all how I thought this little meeting would play out for sure.

His voice brings me back to the fold of the dream, "So you are alive in there after all. I've been hoping to see this in you… I didn't quite expect to have it happen this way." He chuckles to himself softly.

Feeling embarrassed at my reaction to him now I tense as the beginning feelings of humiliation rise in me once more. I hear that soothing voice again and feel his hands on my face, gently forcing me to meet his eyes with my own.

"No… don't crawl back inside of yourself again. Don't bottle this up too. That's your problem… all sense and no feeling. You're too good a writer to settle for less and to not use all of yourself in your work, Rebecca."

And I'm stunned, completely and utterly stunned. Was that just a compliment about my writing? I never thought I'd ever hear a compliment from him and my eyes begin to fill again partly from the compliment from him and also because of the conflicting emotions that are battering me all at once. Somehow I manage to speak. "You think I'm good?"

"Aye... you're good, but good isn't enough when you've the talent to be great. I wouldn't compliment you on good, when you've the potential to be more. And watching you turn in writing that was just "good enough" pissed me off beyond measure and left me wanting to shake some sort of sense into you"

"Yeah, I'd noticed that," was all I could manage. He releases me then and backs away and I suddenly feel exposed and cold and left wanting. Longing for his body to cover mine again.

"There's more," he continues. And now I'm intrigued. "I'd found myself attracted to you early on and I'd thought that it would be obvious for everyone to see. I was sure in thinking it could be read on me. So I deliberately went out of my way to cover it up by being distant toward you and I am sorry for that. It wasn't right of me to do to you".

I cannot speak words have completely failed me at this point and I've begun to even question my hearing abilities. Surely I'm not hearing this correctly. Did he just say that he was attracted to me?

"I don't… I don't understand." I move my hand to my forehead, cupping it in my palm and tilting my head into it as I try to make sense of these words just spoken to me and wishing he would just shut up and kiss me again. He only smiles that killer smile of his that I've only been lucky enough to see for the second time since I've known him and both times have been in the same night. What a surprisingly confusing night this turned out to be!

"Yes you do," he says. He turns to move from me but somewhere in that movement he's changed his mind and moves back to me placing his hands on my arms, before sliding his hands down them to join his hands with mine. My eyes follow the movement of the gesture. "You're a beautiful woman, Rebecca. Why does my saying that surprise you?"

I'm answering before I realize, " The part where you're saying it?"

He looks at me a full second before he laughs, a laugh that becomes a full on whole hearted laugh, its warm sound echoes throughout his office bouncing around the walls and infecting me and I can't help but join in. And it's an all out silly laugh fest now. Nothing like a little nervous laughter to clear the heart and soul of any hurt, pain or confusion, with the tension suddenly made funny.

The room takes on a lighter air about it. He reaches out then and touches my face and suddenly the moment of silly air has now taken another serious turn. "You know that I cannot act on this attraction that I feel for you, Rebecca". I nod because I do know, but I can't stop the disappointment from showing. "Well, after this anyway" he says while sliding his hand behind my head cradling it while he leans in to touch his lips to mine, softly and sweetly sliding his lips over mine but it ends too quickly. "I can't do this", he says, "you know I can't, love. You're my student, it breaks the code of ethics by which I'm held to as your Professor of this University."

I cannot speak because I'm lost inside and enveloped in that warm sensation of a dream that you do not want to end and don't want to wake from. I remain quiet, listening and he continues on.

"As much as I'm wanting to throw that aside and find out just how deep that passion you've got runs, I just can't. At least not now, I can't. We can give this time while it is we must live by the rules of the roles we have here. There's just three weeks until semester's end. We have to wait until then to assume different roles, love. For now and starting back tomorrow, I'm your professor and you, my student. We must behave accordingly, for both our own good. I'll need to be keeping my employment here and you'll be having that scholarship. And it will be on your own merits and talents that you pass this class and keep that well deserved scholarship of yours and not because of some other sort of helping hand or other motive. It's important that you know that. You earned this and nothing should have a chance at taking it from you. Nothing".

"Tomorrow?" I ask. He looks completely baffled at my one word admission.

"Sorry?" He asks in that polite "begging pardon" sort of way only the Irish can make sound sexy as hell.

"Well," I continue, "tomorrow is Saturday… are you still my Professor on the Saturdays of holiday weekends?"

Confusion has finally taken the better of him and stares at me as if the answers would be written across my forehead. They may have been read from the emotions swirling in my eyes but I'm sure it isn't the answer to the question that his confusion was searching for. I smile and move toward him feeling a strength, confidence and power that I'd never felt before.

"You said that starting tomorrow you become my Professor once more, yes? Well, tomorrow is Saturday… the Saturday before a holiday weekend, a holiday which the University will be closed down for until the following day. So… will you really be my Professor tomorrow? And… regardless of all of that… tonight isn't tomorrow. So…

I've moved closer to him and now look up into his eyes with a mock questioning and smiling at my well made point I take the chance reaching up to kiss him, just once, very softly and using just the tip of my tongue for a soft taste of his bottom lip, coaxing a response from him. A response I wasn't ready for as I gasp when grabs me, pulling me away reading my eyes and seeing the desire in them. I hear him bite off an oath as he yanks me back against him and covers my mouth with his. The kiss is immediately intense and I bury my hands in his hair, grabbing handfuls, as I feel his hands holding onto the material of my dress at my back while he uses his lips, tongue and teeth to devour my mouth. Catching his tongue between my own lips and lightly sucking on it, he moans into my mouth, spiking my desire to dizzying heights. Growing bolder I bring my hands down to his chest, parting his jacket, sliding my hands inside, running them up and down his sides before grabbing the lapels of his jacket and removing it from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. He's moved his mouth from mine now to kiss along my jaw line, biting lightly. Drawing out a sigh from me before moving to do the same to my neck and throat. I'd forgotten my plan to strip him of his shirt as I let my head fall back to allow him access to feast on the long column of my throat. I hear a long soft sigh that ends on a moan and realize it had come from me. He lips journey to the exposed flesh of my shoulder and using his teeth on me, he bites softly. I moan and begin to unbutton his shirt tasting the flesh as I expose it. I manage to remove his shirt completely tossing it aside as his hands move to my shoulders sliding the straps of my dress aside and letting it pool at my feet as he claims my mouth again with his. He breaks the kiss long enough to take in the white lace that I'm left wearing now. His eyes move over me making me feel exposed and self- conscious under his gaze and I blush, confidence fading, I look away from him. His hand gently on my chin he brings my eyes back to his and with a breathy voice says, "That's beautiful, you're beautiful. All white lace and blushing, it's a hard to resist combination, darlin'. You could bring a man to his knees. But, I have to ask if you're wanting for me to continue here, I need to know this from you".

I answer not a spoken word at first but with reaching to him, moving to him and sliding my hands down his chest, stopping and lingering at the muscles of his stomach, feeling them contracting and bunching at my touch before sliding them down to the line of his pants, stopping at the fastening but sliding past and down the front of and over him, with a woman's appreciating sigh and returning my eyes to his, I demand, "Make love to me. Here. Now. Right now." I feel the surge of power between us and I swear I can literally hear his handle of control snap in two. Before I can think he moves his hands to the back of my thighs and lifts me in one swift move, wrapping my legs around him and with my arms around his shoulders he carries me to the desk. Holding me to him with one arm as he uses the other to clear his desk, sending its inhabitants flying and scattering the objects around the room. He lays me back, climbing up and bracing himself over me. I rise up to lay kisses on his chest, sliding my hands back to his trousers to remove them. Unfastening them I slide my hand inside to touch him, softly touching with appreciation before wrapping my hand around him, drawing a groan and watching his eyes nearly roll back in his head before he removes his pants altogether himself, discarding them with a toss to the floor. He uses his weight to lay me back and settles between my legs, keeping his weight even balanced he shifts some over me almost laying beside me holding himself up on his elbow while tracing a path with his hands that lingers over my breast, removing the material and bending his head to taste with his mouth. I arch under his touch and tasting with a gasp in my throat as he slides his hand down over my belly and down to stop at the line of white lace before tracing further down, stopping at the V of lace there. Using two fingers he slides the material aside before sliding them inside me. My hips rise and fall to the demand of his fingers moving inside me and I feel the trembles and hear his moan mixed with my own as he drives me over the edge and I pour into his hand. He moves over me bracing himself above me again, "Now, God, now", he groans driving himself deep inside me in one smooth motion, filling me and sending me over the edge again. He releases a shaky breath that ends on a moan as I contract around him. We're moving together now, rocking each other, moving, sliding, rising and falling and driving each other to the breaking point. Up and up again he drives me and I'm sent hurling up and over, I look into his eyes as I crest again, saying his name and letting go, arching against him, taking him with me up and over the edge he follows me, burying his face in my hair, moaning my name and emptying himself deep inside of me.

Time passes, or I think it does. Neither of us have the strength to move or speak. He lays himself on me, the weight of him is heavy and feels wonderful. I feel like a good satisfied feline stretch is in order and perhaps a bowl of cream. I run my hands over his back loving the feeling of his skin under them and he stirs, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at me. My skin is flushed from the satisfaction of being sated and he smiles. "I can't complain any about any lack of expression of passion here, love".

I grin and say, "So I've made the grade on this then?" His face turns serious a second before softening and I watch the amused look come into his eyes before he laughs and says, "Of course, but I'm still willing to make an offer of extra credit, if you're interested," he says with a wiggling brow and a wicked grin.

Laughter fills the room and ends on twin sighs of pleasure as he slides himself inside me once more.


End file.
